Grissom & His Lady: 7 Love & Loss
by Hazeleyedone
Summary: For my lovely friend Heather Gil & Heather's Reactions to Warrick's death. Written in between the airings of For Gedda & For Warrick. Some facts may differ. Written to include some of my OC's, and I STILL do not own Original Cast Characters!


_Love & Loss_

_Scene 1_

We ride in silence as I watch the last pale shades of pink fade from the horizon. Sunrise has been breathtaking this morning and I am glad that I accepted my father's offer to join him for an early morning horseback ride. The morning air caresses my skin as my horse Drum trots along beside Wild Bill; the stallion Dad has chosen from the stable for his ride. The breeze is gentle and cool, and as it has for all my life; my father's presence makes me feel safe and protected. Yet, in spite of these pleasing things, I have a sinking feeling of dread about what this day is to bring. I can't find a cause for the way I feel, but I sense, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, that this will not be a good day at all.

_There is every reason it ought to be. Nearly every person on Earth that I love is here this morning; Daddy, his wife Sally, my brother Hayden, Nana Zoë and sweet precocious Allison. The only one who is missing is Gil. He should be here too, but he's at work right now._

I draw in a sudden breath causing Dad to glance my way. It isn't the realization that I so easily include Gil's name to the list of my loved ones that causes this. I have known for a long time now that I love him, and although I have not told him so, the thought does not surprise me anymore. It is a warm comfortable familiar thought that I keep to myself and secretly cherish. Instead, I have taken the deep breath because the very moment that his name enters my conscience the feeling of dread that I am experiencing doubles and then doubles again. I realize that Dad is watching me intently and offer him a small smile.

"Oh no; you can't fool me with that practiced phony smile of yours. What's wrong Baby Girl?"

I smile genuinely at the term of endearment that I haven't heard since I was a teen. "You haven't called me that in years."

"I've called you that every day of your life Darlin'. You just haven't been around to hear me for most of it." He corrects me gently so that the reminder of our long separation won't hurt too much and before I can respond he repeats, "What's wrong?"

I shrug wrinkling my brow, "I don't know what's wrong Dad, but I want very badly to go back to the house and phone Gil. Something bad has happened; I feel it. I watch him wait for more information, and because I have no more to give, I simply shrug again.

He turns his horse and heads for the barn. "Well let's go then. I learned a long time ago not to ignore the intuition of the Harper women.

I smile wearily and use my knees to nudge Drum into a gallop.

_Scene 2_

He holds the back door open for me, and as we enter the house through the kitchen I hear Nana Zoë call out to me, "Heather come quick; the News!"

I sprint from the kitchen and cross the hall into the solarium where the rest of my visiting family members are gathered around the television. I stare at the picture on the screen, and feel my heart stop in my chest only to start beating again a second later so rapidly that I can hear the sound of my own blood rushing through my veins in my ears. Gil is on screen; kneeling on the ground cradling the blood-soaked body of Warrick Brown. Nick Stokes is there too; yelling at the reporters, "Just back off dammit! Show some respect! Catherine Willows the pretty strawberry blonde who also works with Gil, stands at his side, touching Gil's shoulder, and although I can't hear the words Catherine is saying over Nick voice; I can see that Catherine is talking to Gil as hot angry tears spill from the woman's eyes. My eyes return to Gil. There is blood on his hands and also a smear across his cheek His eyes are filled with enough rage and grief to assure me that the blood is not his, but that of the man in his arms. He looks…. So lost…I decide and my heart breaks for him.

"Is this live?" I ask everyone in the room.

"No, it's just recorded footage." My brother answers. "About two seconds before you came in they said that the guy who got shot was in his car in that alley way. Grissom found him. Apparently they had all had breakfast together and some of them had left the diner already. The reporter said that they took him to Desert Palm Hospital."

I turn to leave too quickly and bump into Dad who has hurried into the room with me and still stands half a step behind. He wraps his arms around me to keep me steady. I gaze first up at him and the down at Nana Zoë beside him. She holds my cell phone in one hand, and my car keys in the other. She offers both to me along with one word; "Go!"

Dad grabs both items and declares, "I'm driving."

I can not object. I simply push free of his embrace and leave the room at a dead run.

_Scene III_

Once at the hospital, Dad stops the car at the curb and before he can put it in park; I am out and hurrying to the doors that swing open as I approach. Once inside I glance upward; see a sign with a few directional arrows hanging from the ceiling, and take a left at the reception desk, as the sign indicates I should in order to get to the emergency room. I hear Dad's heavy footfalls behind me but do not stop or even slow down. I continue through the hospital until I see the doors to the emergency room, but as I approach those doors I catch a glimpse of Captain Jim Brass in the waiting room adjacent to the emergency room. The tapping sound made by my riding boots on the linoleum floor catches Brass's attention and he looks up as I stride into the room. I ignore the expression of utter surprise on his face. I look around seeing Catherine and Nick. Both of them wear shocked expressions as well, but I just don't care. My eyes finally find Gil; sitting on the edge of the sofa with his hands held out in front of him as if he had recently held his head in his hands, and has looked up in time to see me enter the room. His sad angry eyes say he is surprised by my presence here too, but for far different reasons than his team. I brush past Brass quickly on my way to him.

"I saw the news." I offer in explanation of my presence as I stop directly before him and go down on my knees reaching out to him.

I then draw up short as he whispers, "Don't touch me Heather."

I try not to let his words wound me. "Why?" I ask softly.

"Ecklie is coming to take my clothes. They'll need to be processed for evidence. He isn't here yet. Please don't touch me."

I nod slowly feeling shame at the relief that floods through me as I realize that he isn't rejecting me or any display of my affection for him. He is simply on the job; even now despite the gut wrenching pain of loss he feels. I sit back on my heels in front of him and ache to touch him; to hold him; to comfort him in some small way. "What can I do Gil? How can I help?" I watch rage contort his handsome face briefly, but he contains it after a long moment's struggle. Then the rage gives way to sorrow.

"You can't help Heather. No one can. He's gone."

I know all too well that he is right. No one can help ease or take away the loss he feels so deeply right now. He just has to feel it.

"Will you work this case?"

In response to the question I addressed to him every member of the team answered in perfect union. "Yes!"

"Under the circumstances; is that allowed?"

Gil answers alone this time but for everyone. "Doesn't matter; I don't give a damn if it's allowed or not. He was ours. We're working it."

"And I'm guessing that you won't go home until it's over?" I ask him, and they all answer. "No!"

"Where's Hank?"

This question throws him a mental curve ball he was not expecting and it shows in his eyes. It takes a few long seconds for him to realize why I am asking and then he mumbles "Dog sitter…… I was supposed to pick him up this morning after shift."

"Give me the address I'll take care of him for you."

He mutters the address and I rise to my feet and have to battle down the urge to caress his weary face. I want to say something, but can't find the words. He looks up at me and offers me a sad half-smile. He knows.

"Will the dog sitter let me take him?"

"I'll call her and tell her to expect you. Her name is Denise."

"Do you need me to bring you a change of clothes?" I ask gazing at the awful stains on his clothes."

"No. I have some back at the lab."

"Okay then. Dad and I will go now."

He looks over my head at Dad still standing just inside the door; waiting quietly. This is the first moment he is aware that my father is present and Gil nods to him in acknowledgement.

"If there is anything that I or my family can do to be of help to any or all of you please do not hesitate to call upon us." Dad says while making eye contact with each person in the room.

Most of them wear somewhat startled expressions as they have never even seen him before, but they all seem to accept what he says without question in the way that shell shocked people will do when loss is new and raw.

Then Dad reaches for my hand signaling our departure, and I join him glancing back at Gil one last time as I go; wishing I could take his pain away with me.

_Scene 3_

When I walk in the front door at Denise's Doggie Daycare, Hank recognizes me at once and comes bounding from behind the front counter to greet me.

"Hank, sit!" I command in a quiet tone that demands he comply before he can jump on me. I understand he is excited but he can put his front paws on my shoulders when he stands on his hind legs, and I do not want his claw marks on my new jacket. He obeys at once; although doing so brings him to a skidding halt and he slides on his rump for a few inches across polished linoleum. He stays where he stopped and waits with twitching tail and pleading eyes for me to either come to him or call him forward. I walk calmly forward and scratch his ears in reward. "Good sit; good boy." I praise him while looking around for some sign of Denise; the dog sitter. "Where's your pal Denise at Hank?"

At precisely this moment a petite young brunette appears in the hall behind the counter. "You must be Heather." She says with a warm smile coming around the counter and shaking hands with me. "I'm Denise; it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Oh?" I can't mask my surprise quite as well as I'd have liked. "Has Grissom spoken of me?"

"Only once, and I swear I had to drag it out of him. One morning a few months back as he was leaving here with Hank he asked Hank if he was ready to go see Allison. I've known Grissom for over two years and that was the first time I've ever heard him mention a woman's name. Well… except for his friend Catherine that he works with. Anyway, my curiosity went through the roof, so I asked him, 'who's Allison. Is she a lady friend?' He just looked at me and I could tell he was confused for a minute and then those blue eyes of his started to twinkle with mischief and he said that Allison was Hank's two year old playmate. Then I was really confused and bit my tongue to keep from saying that he didn't exactly strike me as the guy that spends his days off playing with his best buddy's little kids. He sensed my confusion and volunteered only a tiny bit more information. 'Allison is Heather's granddaughter' he told me as if that should clear up the mystery. So naturally I asked 'who's Heather.' In reply he smiled at me, tipped that damn straw hat of his, and walked out my door without a word. I stood right here and yelled, 'Fine be that way!' All he did was wave as he drove away. He has such a polite way of 'saying' mind your own damn business. Doesn't he?"

I silently make a mental note that someday soon after the initial shock of Warrick's death has worn off; I must tell Gil that Denise-The-Dog-Sitter is in love with him.

_Scene 4_

_Two days later…_

I open my front door to find Gil standing on the other side looking disheveled in clothes he has no doubt worn too long, drained and defeated. My heart breaks for him all over again; just as it did two days prior. I step clear of the door to allow him in, close it behind him and offer to take his rumpled jacket. He allows me to slip it from his shoulders and as I hang it; I ask, "The case is closed?"

He only nods his reply.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head. "I don't want to talk at all."

"What do you want?"

He steps toward me; wraps his arms around me and pulls me tightly to him, and I feel his body tremble as he inhales and buries his face in my hair. At last I am permitted to hold him and his tears begin to fall.

6


End file.
